


Sweet As Pie

by colazitron



Series: 2017 December Holiday Fic Countdown [9]
Category: Dunkirk (2017) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-12 18:34:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12965799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colazitron/pseuds/colazitron
Summary: Fionn meets a hot stranger on a train. The hot stranger accidentally airdrops an embarrassing video onto Fionn's phone. Et voilà - a meetcute.





	Sweet As Pie

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ragetwitch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ragetwitch/gifts).



> **Disclaimer:** I am in no way affiliated with the persons depicted herein, nor is this meant to be a representation of reality in any meaningful way. All of this is for fun. Mind the fourth wall, please.

Fionn digs his phone charger and water bottle out of his backpack and then heaves it up onto the overhead storage space before falling down onto his seat with a heavy sigh. His cheeks and fingers are tingly from the cold outside, and his nose has gone runny. He plugs his phone into the charger and the charger into the socket, glad he managed to snag a table seat, and then unzips his coat, slipping out of his sleeves and standing up a little so he can tug it up and settle it over his shoulders more comfortably, wrapping it around himself a little like a cape. He never warms up that quickly and he always finds trains a little chilly in the winter.

Sniffling a little he shoves one hand into the pocket of his coat for his tissues while he reaches for his phone on the table in front of him with the other one to see who'd texted him just before he got on the train.

  


**Tom**

Did you make it?

  


Fionn smiles to himself a little bit and blows his nose before he picks his phone up to text back.

  


**Tom**

Did you make it?

All good. Five minutes to spare even!

Plenty of time then ;)

I did some impressive sprinting

You've never sprinted in your life

That's why it was so impressive

Haha! Have a good trip! Let me know when you get back to London

Sure, will do, mum

  


The artificially bright light on the train or outside the window at the station does nothing to make Fionn feel less tired, and he considers just turning on his quiet playlist and dozing for the next two and a half hours. But there's a script he has to study, and anyway, if he falls asleep now, he won't sleep later and he can't afford that when he has a shift starting at five in the morning tomorrow. Why did he let Tom talk him into taking the last train back to London again? 'Oh, it's the holidays, Fionn. I never get to see you anymore, Fionn. Why don't you just take the last train and read then, Fionn?' Bloody Glynn-Carney and his puppy eyes.

Still, he gives himself another moment or two of mindlessly staring out of the window onto the mostly empty platforms until the train gives a small jerk and starts moving. They're already rolling out of the station when a guy roughly Fionn's age drops a duffel and a backpack onto the seat opposite Fionn. He's bundled up in a coat, scarf, and beanie hat, hands still stuffed into gloves. His nose is red from the cold and his breathing a little laboured, like he had to run to catch the train too, cutting it even more finely than Fionn did.

“Is that seat taken?” he turns to Fionn to ask, voice low and calm in a way that makes Fionn want to hear more of it.

“No, go ahead,” he says with a small shake of his head and then turns away, because watching the guy peel off his outer layers would probably be a little creepy.

Instead, he shifts in his seat to get comfortable and pulls the script up on his phone, cursing himself for forgetting the printed copy at home. It's always easier to study off of paper, Fionn finds, but he's just glad to have found it in his email inbox at all. This is better than nothing.

The guy who joined him sits down diagonally opposite him, an iPad in front of him and his phone in his hand. It has a pink cover and looks almost small in his hands. Not that Fionn's looking that closely. It's just a loud colour and easy to notice. It's the same as how he'd have to be blind not to notice how handsome the guy is; cheekbones and jaw defined but smooth in a way that makes him look soft, inky lashes over bright eyes, lips pink and pillowy, his hair a lively brown and just a little bit curly.

He smiles politely at Fionn when their eyes catch, and Fionn smiles back as he hopes he doesn't look too much like he's been staring. If he has, the guy doesn't seem bothered by it as he just turns to his iPad. Fionn goes back to his script.

The landscape outside goes pitch-black as they leave Manchester behind, the bright white lights keeping the inside of the train lit up only making the darkness outside look even more so. Fionn tries staring through his reflection to see if he can make out any shapes beyond the window, but once his mind starts to drift, he pulls his focus back onto the script, telling himself to stop procrastinating.

The guy opposite him seems to be faring better at not procrastinating, judging by the concentrated lines on his brow and the way he keeps flicking his eyes back and forth between his phone and his iPad, earphones plugged in and probably not listening to music the way Fionn is. Fionn kinda feels sympathy twinge somewhere in his gut at the way the frown deepens while the guy types something, swipes a bit, goes back and forth between something on his phone and something on the iPad. It looks stressful. People shouldn't be this stressed at half past eight in the evening on a train.

Before he can get caught staring again – though judging by the guy's focus, it's unlikely – Fionn makes himself look back down at his script, trying to drill the words into his brain. He's got most of it down, but he needs to be word perfect by next week.

He manages another half hour of making his brain actually take in the words on his screen before a ding and a video popping up on his screen make him startle.

It's-- it's a video of the guy sitting opposite him. Only he's not wearing a shirt, and he's got reindeer antlers on his head. He's grinning widely and singing along to Last Christmas playing in the background, dancing ridiculously.

What. The. Fuck.

Fionn stares for another handful of seconds, trying to figure out if there's any point to this having shown up on his phone – which, how?! – before he looks up and over at the guy. He's still frowning down at his phone and iPad, but now the frown keeps getting deeper while he looks back and forth between the two, obviously confused.

Before Fionn can make up his mind about how exactly to ask about what just happened, the guy's eyes go wide and he looks up, startling a little when he finds Fionn already looking at him. Fionn can still hear him sing through his ear buds – he's not half-bad, actually – and it suddenly feels like an intrusion, so he pulls them out of his ears and hastily taps the screen to stop the video.

“Shit, I'm so sorry,” the guy says, pulling out his own ear buds. “I think I just accidentally airdropped you a video.”

“Um, yeah,” Fionn says, his own cheeks warming in sympathy with the slight flush he sees on the other guy's face.

“It's fine. No harm done,” he adds. “I'll delete it right away.”

He does as well, the video gone from his phone a few taps later before he smiles over at the guy again.

“I really didn't mean to assault you with my terrible dancing and shirtless-ness,” the guy says.

“It really is fine,” Fionn says, trying not to grin too much. If this had happened to him, he'd die of embarrassment, so he really doesn't want to make this any worse for the poor guy.

“Still. Sorry,” the guy says. “Your wifi and stuff is open too, I must have tapped the wrong icon by mistake.”

That would explain it.

“Ah, shit. I always forget to turn that back off.”

“Well, let's say we've learned our lesson,” the guy says with a grin that Fionn can't help but return. He's even more handsome when he smiles, and Fionn's not just thinking that because he knows how fit he is under those clothes now.

“Let's,” Fionn agrees, and after an awkward moment of mutual staring, they each get back to their respective devices.

Fionn tries to concentrate on the script again, and resolutely does not look up to steal another glance at the guy, but five minutes in he gives up.

  


**Tom**

This really hot guy sat down opposite me

How is this a problem? Get it

He accidentally airdropped a video of him dancing shirtless with reindeer antlers on his head onto my phone

Hahahahaha! No way!!!!

Omg is he really hot?

So hot. He has abs and tattoos and arms and everything!!! But I can't be that creep!

He's probably embarrassed. Offer him some gum or something. Make him comfortable. Let him come to you. Godspeed, little one.

  


Fionn doesn't have any gum to offer, and he doubts the guy wants a sip from his water bottle, so thanks for nothing Tom. He scrolls up further through the conversation with Tom as though anything there could tell him what to do when he stumbles upon a photo of him Tom took earlier today with Tom's stupidly fluffy cat by the Christmas tree. They're wearing matching Christmas hats, him and the cat, and Fionn's got a besotted little smile on his face as he looks down at the cat. It's not dancing naked in reindeer antlers, but it's all Fionn has to offer.

… This is probably a really stupid idea, isn't it.

He's already pulled up the share menu but he hovers over the Harry S. icon he assumes is the guy sitting opposite him. Fionn doesn't recall anyone else sitting close, and at any rate, the two HS devices are the only ones he can see, so unless the guy opposite him turned his sharing off, then Harry S. has a butterfly tattooed on his stomach and some sort of plants just above the waistline of his jeans that really make Fionn's mouth water.

Deciding that if push comes to shove, he never has to see this guy again, he presses send.

Fionn looks up just in time to see the guy's eyebrows shoot up in surprise as he looks at his phone, before his lips twitch as though he's trying not to smile. His eyes come up to meet Fionn's and his smile escapes his teeth, stretching across his face. Fionn can't help but smile back.

“Now we're even?” he offers with a shrug.

The guy – Harry, apparently – huffs a laugh.

“Your photo's adorable though and I look like an insane dork.”

“Nah. Your moves are impressive,” Fionn says with a grin, hoping for another laugh.

“It was for a friend of mine,” Harry defends. “He gave me the antlers, told me to put them to good use.”

“Well, you certainly did that,” Fionn says.

Harry grins and then, after a moment's deliberation, holds out his hand for Fionn to shake.

“I'm Harry. You're Fionn, right?”

Fionn's too surprised by how Harry doesn't pronounce it Fee-on to do anything more than nod.

“Well, I appreciate the gesture and the photo, Fionn.”

“You're welcome.”

“I'd set it as my new background, but then my sister would think I have a new boyfriend,” Harry teases, and Fionn feels his entire body flush with heat even as he laughs along with the joke.

“We should probably go on a date before you tell your sister I'm your boyfriend,” he says.

Harry grins.

“We probably should,” he agrees and then grabs his bags from the seat opposite Fionn, climbing over into it and unceremoniously piling his stuff in the seat he just vacated.

“So, Fionn. What brings you to Manchester? Or to London. Are you going home or away? We should probably establish if this is going to be a long distance relationship.”

Fionn laughs and leans forward a little, deciding to lean into whatever this is. If there's even half a chance this isn't still just a joke and Harry's actually flirting, then the fluttering in Fionn's belly is very much in favour of that.

“I was visiting a friend. I live in London,” Fionn says, and almost holds his breath waiting for a reply.

“Me too,” Harry says. “So not long distance then, that's good. I think I prefer a shorter distance.”

That-- is definitely flirting. Right? That's flirting.

“Yeah, me too,” Fionn says.

“So, what has you so concentrated on your phone? Work? Boyfriend?” Harry asks.

“Script,” Fionn says. “I've still got a bit of memorising to do.”

“You're an actor?” Harry asks, eyes lighting up with interest.

“Barista-slash-actor,” Fionn corrects. “The whole damn cliché.”

Harry laughs.

“I used to want to be an actor. Or a singer. Some sort of performer,” he says. “Now I bake shirtless on the internet.”

“What?” Fionn asks with a laugh.

“No, seriously,” Harry says. “It's my whole brand.”

He reaches over for his phone and pulls up his instagram account. His profile picture is, indeed, a picture of him shirtless, hair tousled-on-purpose, an apron covering most of his chest and his bare arms crossed impressively in front of it. He looks good, and Fionn is going to question the shirtless branding in a second, but the cakes and cookies and whatever else below all that look absolutely absurdly gorgeous.

“Holy shit, you make these?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Harry says with a grin, and scrolls down his feed slowly to let Fionn look.

“What's that one?” Fionn asks, pointing at what looks to be chocolate cake and … something pink.

Harry laughs a little.

“That's, um, a brownie with vanilla ice cream and a cotton candy cloud on caramel spikes.”

Fionn raises his gaze to stare up at him, completely gobsmacked.

“I can barely make cake from a box mix,” he says.

Harry huffs another laugh.

“It's just practice,” he says.

Fionn shakes his head, because something like that can't be practice only, but asks Harry about another one of the photos, alternately marvelling at the beautiful cakes and the beautiful smile on Harry's face. At some point during their conversation Harry stretches one leg out to let his foot touch Fionn's, and by the time they make it to London at almost eleven, their legs are tangled up together underneath the table and Fionn feels like he's had desire burning in his gut for days.

Harry gets Fionn's backpack down from the overhead storage for him with only a small smile, and then motions for him to get off the train first, following close enough behind Fionn that he swears he can feel the heat rolling off Harry's body still. Euston station looks as inviting as always – that is to say not at all – and Fionn automatically picks up speed as he walks towards the exit. Harry keeps up easily, but neither of them speak until they're back outside.

The air is – well. It's London air, but it's cold and night time, so it feels crisp and fresh. Fionn's not really sure what to do now, and hovers by Harry's side, who's looking around uncertainly as well.

Before Fionn can make up his mind to just bite the bullet and ask Harry for his number, Harry opens his mouth to speak.

“Hey, um. Tomorrow's Sunday, so. Do you maybe want to go get breakfast?”

“I have a shift at five tomorrow,” Fionn says. “In the morning.”

Harry grimaces a little. “That sounds terrible.”

“It's not fun. I hate getting up in the mornings,” Fionn confirms. “But, um. If you wanted to have lunch I could meet you after?”

A smile dawns on Harry's face that sets all the butterflies in Fionn's belly fluttering about again.

“Yeah, I'd really like that,” Harry says and digs his phone out of his coat pocket, handing it over to Fionn.

Fionn ducks his head to hide his wide grin and puts in his number, sending himself a text.

“I'll text you?” Harry suggests when Fionn hands his phone back.

“Yeah. Um, I finish at one, so. Anytime after that works for me.”

“Okay. Great. I'll let you get some sleep now,” Harry says.

Fionn laughs a little and then takes a step back.

“Okay,” he says, looking up at Harry, meeting his happy gaze with his own. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow,” Harry confirms.

Fionn almost wants to kiss him, but pushes the impulse down and instead lifts his hand in an awkward wave. Harry laughs and returns it, and before he can think of anything else embarrassing to do, Fionn turns around and walks away. He gets about five steps before Harry catches up to him.

“Actually, are you walking to the tube station? Because I am,” he says.

Fionn laughs.

“Yeah. I am.”

“Okay, so. Walk together?” Harry offers.

Fionn grins.

“Yeah.”

He didn't really want to say goodbye yet anyway, would much rather be watching the way Harry's breath fogs in front of his pink mouth as he tells Fionn about some anecdote or other involving his sister and their childhood pet, even if the alternative is slipping into his warm bed. Fionn is still tired and cold, but there's really no other train he would have wanted to take.

  


**The End**

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on [this tweet](https://twitter.com/toplessbaker/status/939095755251384321), as is Harry's profession. Can you believe that actually happened to a real life human? (Minus the meetcute, presumably.)
> 
> That brownie with the cotton candy cloud [is also real.](https://www.instagram.com/p/BS1Y3MDlXpN/?taken-by=toplessbaker) As is [the picture of Fionn](https://thelittlepieceofshit.tumblr.com/image/163894792675), but you probably already knew that.
> 
> You can also still leave me prompts for my fic advent on my tumblr @fille-lioncelle!


End file.
